


I've Loved You For A Hundred Years (It Certainly Fucking Feels Like It)

by Morbid_Hatter



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Dandelion Shipped It First, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Iorveth Deserves Nice Things, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, No beta we die like stregobor should have, Obviously Ciaran Doesn't Die, Vernon Roche Is A Disaster, but he tries his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26568733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbid_Hatter/pseuds/Morbid_Hatter
Summary: After being forced to work together after the third war with Nilfgaard ends, Roche and Iorveth call a truce. Everything goes smoothly until part of an overheard conversation causes heartache and misunderstanding and reconciliation.Alternately, Roche and Iorveth let themselves heal and be happy.
Relationships: Iorveth/Vernon Roche
Comments: 16
Kudos: 70





	I've Loved You For A Hundred Years (It Certainly Fucking Feels Like It)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so...I should be working on other things, but I couldn't, so this sorta happened? It started as a response to this prompt: https://tiny-pun.tumblr.com/post/627694637711245312/overheard-1 
> 
> This was going to be a short one-shot to get me back in the habit of writing. It's still a one-shot, but all of a sudden it was a lot longer than I thought it was going to be. 
> 
> Help me, I've been sucked into this pairing and I don't know what to do!

Iorveth was pacing back and forth in front of his desk, trying desperately to keep his heart from breaking its way out of his chest. Had this been a year ago, he wouldn't even be in this situation, but times changed. 

And changed they had. Once the messenger in black and gold arrived with a summons to the palace in Vizima, Iorveth found himself lost in a whirlwind he had no control over. When Emperor Emhyr stood in front of him, making him feel small and powerless, he was told in no uncertain terms that he was to work with Nilfgaard again. The chilly threat of his swift death was left unsaid, but it hadn’t needed to be voiced for Iorveth to understand. 

He hadn’t been alone; Ciaran had been summoned from wherever he had been hiding after escaping from the Flotsam Prison Barge to be his second. 

Iorveth remembered the relief that had washed over him when the other Aen Seidhe had stood next to him. At least he wouldn't be completely alone while trapped behind the palace walls. But the relief had been short-lived when another had been announced to the Emperor. "Vernon Roche, Commander of the former Temerian Special Forces, the Blue Stripes."

Iorveth swore lowly and felt his hackles rise the closer Roche got to him. "Now, my Intelligence has told me of your shared past. However, I expect this to not be a problem for professionals such as yourselves and whomever Commander Roche chooses as his second. The four of you will work as liaisons between the empire and its new acquisitions. I am leaving this all to my daughter, Cirilla when she is ready and I will be leaving her with a well-maintained and united Empire. Do I make myself clear?"

The threat had worked. Iorveth had gritted his teeth together when the four of them had been dressed in Nilfgaardian black and gold to officially swear allegiance to the Empire and the Emperor himself, feeling like he was selling his soul to protect his people again. 

"Look, I hate you, and you hate me, but I refuse to be hanged for failing so I propose a truce." It had been surprisingly easy to get the dh’oine to agree, but Iorveth assumed Roche was not looking for death, nor was Ves who grumbled but shook hands as well. 

Now, they got on well. Iorveth would almost say they were, not friends per se, but friendly. He had even taken to eating lunch with Roche in his office during their weekly meetings. 

And therein laid his current problem. Some time during their forced interactions things had changed. He had gone and developed _feelings_ for his former rival. What used to be the worst part of his week was now something he looked forward to. Their cold and short conversations turned into longer talks and debates; Roche was the only one behind the walls who could match him in any aspect. 

Ciaran knew. It was difficult to hide anything from someone who had fought beside him for so long and to say he wasn't happy was an understatement. It was like Iorveth betrayed everything they had stood for, and had put a divide in their friendship. It changed their dynamic but wouldn't stop them from working together as a united front. Iorveth even understood why Ciaran felt the way he did - it wasn’t as if he could claim to never harboring the deepest hatred of humans, and especially one who was responsible for so much death, but Iorveth was _tired_. It was exhausting to keep hating, to keep the anger burning brightly when he just wanted to rest and live quietly for once.

With Ciaran's deep mistrust of dh’oine as a whole, Iorveth couldn’t bring himself to ask him for an opinion - he knew what it would be, the judgemental look in his eyes was enough of an answer. He so desperately wanted to talk to someone about his feelings, but the only other person on the Emperor's staff that he felt comfortable talking to was the subject of his affections. 

He continued his pacing, muttering to himself all the while. “If I can coordinate a unit of Scoia’tael guerilla fighters I can do this. It’s not hard, I’ll just go to the meeting as usual and just fucking say something. Maybe I’ll ask if he’d like to take the meeting outside the palace. We could have a picnic and enjoy the sunshine. No. That’s stupid. He’s human, he doesn’t care about that. How do you even go about courting a human?” 

Iorveth found himself stopped in the hall, his fingers rubbing together in a nervous habit he had developed during the fragile peace that had settled over the Continent - it was the only thing that could ground him and stopped him from picking up his bow and running off into the forest. He blinked slowly and stilled further, he hadn’t realized he had left his office and began the trek down to Roche’s office; it had been a completely unconscious act like his body just followed its regular routine without consulting his head. 

“Okay, it’s now or never,” he whispered to himself while he took a determined step towards the heavy door until his sensitive ears picked up the conversation happening behind the closed door. Normally, he tried his hardest not to accidentally eavesdrop on conversations he wasn’t a part of, just out of courtesy, but something had him hone in on the two voices in Roche’s office.

_“Come on, Roche. Take the rest of the day off! Come out to the city and have a few drinks so we can catch up about something other than work!”_

_“I can’t. I still have to meet with Iorveth.”_

_“I hope you don’t die of -- of boredom.”_

_“Shut up, Ves! What if someone hears you?”_

_“No one’s gonna hear me. I just want you to admit it! Every time you leave those meetings, you’re always so keyed up and frustrated._ I’m _getting frustrated from your frustration.”_

Iorveth felt something cold drop into his gut at the same time a lump built up in his throat that he couldn’t breathe around. 

He turned and fled back to his office, his thoughts racing at an impossible pace. He could feel his heart break and he knew he couldn’t be here. He had to get out in the open and not caught behind oppressive stone walls while he processed what he had heard.

Iorveth grabbed a piece of parchment and began writing. If he was going to leave, he was going to make sure that everything would run smoothly. There was no reason to be hanged for not having his feelings returned. 

“I have to meet with the Emperor. Will you go to my meeting with Roche for me? I’ve left my notes on my desk. And can you give him this?” Iorveth asked Ciaran in a rush, not stopping his trek across the palace. 

He ignored Ciaran as he called out to his retreating back. He was going to lose his fight with the tears threatening to fall and he needed to find somewhere he could hide for a moment to regain his composure before he had to beg for some time alone. 

Everything seemed to happen in a blur until he was being admitted into the Emperor’s office. He was vaguely aware of the throbbing in his knuckles like he had punched a wall (which he had more than likely done, he reasoned). 

“Iorveth. I was under the impression that you were to meet Commander Roche today. Has something changed?” Emperor Emhyr asked, voice cold and gaze shrewd. 

“No. I mean, yes. I mean - Excellency, I’m here to ask for an allowance, if you will.” Iorveth flinched and mentally berated himself for stumbling over his words. “I’ve learned something that is, uh, personally distressing, and I -” he took a deep breath and swallowed the choked gasp he could feel building in his chest. “I was here to request, Excellency, a few days off to patrol the borders. I won’t need more than that, I promise, but I just need a moment to come to terms with it.” 

Emhyr regarded him with a calculating look before nodding. “Granted. I assume your second will take over your duties until you feel you are ready to return.” 

Iorveth felt relief and embarrassment in equal measure; relief that he was given his request, embarrassment that his face must have shown his distress so obviously that the Emperor agreed so quickly. “Thank you, Your Excellency. I’ve already given my records from the week to Ciaran. With your permission, I’d like to leave while there’s plenty of light to make it to the patrol route.”

Emhyr nodded and dismissed him with a wave. “And Iorveth,” the Emperor began without turning back around to face Iorveth again. “When you return, I expect everything to be as efficiently run as it has been. Do I make myself clear?”

Iorveth cut off the high-pitched noise that slipped through his lips with a wince. “Of course, Excellency,” he replied, bowing to the Emperor’s back and hurrying out through the door before his life could be subtly and thoroughly threatened again. 

With permission granted, Iorveth went to his private chambers and changed out of his stuffy doublet and into his old Scoia’tael garb, feeling like he was coming home to something that had once offered him comfort but now only hinted at any kind of ease. 

\-------

“Ves, can we not talk about this anymore?” Roche asked with a sigh as he sat down heavily on his desk. “I know you’re only teasing, but it’s not funny.”

Ves sat down next to him and ruffled his hair, as if he wasn’t still her superior. “Look, I’m sorry, but you have to admit, a year ago you’d have rather fallen on your own sword than admit the Squirrel was attractive, let alone that you wanted to plough his brains out.”

Roche sputtered and looked around in horror, hoping that Iorveth wouldn’t choose that moment to come in and demand lunch. The elf had been showing up earlier and earlier as the year progressed and their relationship improved. Roche could admit he was delighted that they could sit down and debate as friends without the burning hatred they shared for years; now there was more than just the begrudging respect, it had blossomed into real companionship. 

But he also knew that it was as much as he was going to get to the still-sometimes aloof elf. As they had talked about everything regardless of whether or not it related to their jobs, their conversations had occasionally turned towards sex. Roche was reluctant to admit his preferences aloud until Iroveth waved his discomfort away as he freely, but quietly, admitted that he too was attracted to men. “Well, male elves,” he had clarified hurriedly. With those three words, Iorveth had deflated Roche’s growing hope for more, but not his attraction. 

“Can you blame me?” he asked after a long silence. “There are so many half and quarter elves, I’m not the only human to feel like this.”

Ves snorted and elbowed him. “Yeah,” she drawled with enough attitude to suffocate him. “But how many of them made it their life’s work to hunt down and defeat the current object of their affection? Then again, your obsession makes sense now. You had a manic need to know everything about your elf.” 

Roche didn’t have a retort for that. It was true. While he had grudgingly admitted to a modicum of respect and admiration for the Scoia’tael commander, he had pointedly refused to admit it was anything more than slight admiration for another commander’s abilities. “It’s a moot point anyway, he’d never lower himself to being with a filthy dh’oine.” 

Ves had the decency to ignore his use of Elder and shook her head. “You enjoy your meeting with your elf and when you’re done, if you’d like a drink, you can always come and find me.” 

Roche didn’t think he would have the burning _need_ to see Ves after his meeting, but he needed to get shit-faced drunk and soon. 

He had felt his spirits lift when his door opened shortly after Ves left him, only for them to plummet to his feet when it wasn't Iorveth pushing his way into Roche’s space, but Ciaran. This particular elf seemed to harbor more than the usual amount of animosity towards him. Whereas Iorveth had relaxed and shed his hatred as easily as shedding a coat, Ciaran seemed to have picked it up and bore it in Iorveth’s stead. 

“Where’s Iorveth? Is he okay? Nothing happened to him, right?” Roche felt a sense of dread creep up on him before he saw the rolled parchment balanced on top of pages of notes in Iorveth’s familiar hand. 

Ciaran ignored his questions and proceeded to quickly and efficiently read Iorveth’s notes aloud before handing the rolled parchment to Roche with a heavy frown. “He left this for you,” he said before turning on his heels and leaving. The entire interaction hardly took ten minutes and Roche found himself flashing back to the first few meetings with Iorveth before they had settled their differences with an epic shouting match and several drinks after they had yelled themselves hoarse. 

It took him a long moment to force his shaking fingers to open the parchment. Something about it felt heavy and cold in a way no inanimate object should. 

The normally beautiful script was rushed and choppy and Roche found himself flinching when he scanned over the beginning of the letter. It started with his name, but not like usual. Iorveth was the only person alive that didn’t call him Roche. It had been a source of endless irritation while they had been rivals, but it left something warm in his chest later when Iorveth would rumble a low “Vernon” at him in greeting now. But seeing _Roche_ in Iorveth’s hand made his gut churn. 

He could hardly focus on the words, confused and hurt by the clipped tone of the letter. _I no longer have time for our weekly update meetings. Ciaran will take my place from now on._

It was short and there was no explanation as to the change and the churning in his gut burned with hurt. The burn spread up his chest to his face, he could feel his cheeks flush with emotion and his eyes burn as if he was fighting back tears. 

He knocked on the door to Ves’s room and tugged her sleeve. “C’mon, let’s get that drink.” 

“You okay, boss? That was a short meeting. You two usually talk for hours.” Ves fell into step next to him and tried to pester him into talking. “Did you two fight? Break up?”

Roche stopped and handed the short letter over to Ves and intoned a hollow-sounding “can we get that drink now?” 

He could hear Ves read the letter under her breath as she hurried to match his pace. “Boss, I - what happened?” 

He shrugged and led the way to their usual tavern so he could drink himself to oblivion and have someone he trusted to pick up the pieces when he was done. 

“I don’t know what happened,” he began after he downed his first tankard and waved for a second. “I was expecting Ior just like normal but in walks his second. Ya know, Ciaran really hates me. And then - then - he wasn’t there. I don’t want to have to work to make Ciaran not hate me. I know Ior, I know what he’s like and how he thinks. We’ve built up a fucking rapport after all these years. I have no idea how to work with Ciaran.”

Ves sat across from him and watched him knock back several drinks and complain. “Roche, stop. You’re focusing on the wrong thing. What happened to your elf? Did the other one give anything away?” 

Roche shook his head and buried his face in his arms. “No,” he replied sullenly. “Nothing. And I’m not likely to get anything without torturing him and that would get me hanged. But what did I do, Ves? Why does he all of a sudden not have time for me?” He sat up straight and turned to look at Ves with wide eyes. “You don’t think he found out, do you? I mean, it makes sense. He found out that I’m attracted to him and he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

Ves rolled her eyes and didn’t dignify his fears with a response. He didn’t need one. Deep down, under the haze of alcohol, he knew he was right. Iorveth knew and wanted nothing more to do with him. “I need more to drink.” 

\---

Roche woke up and felt the world shift. “Uhhh, fuck,” he groaned, dragging his hand down his face, “I think I’m still drunk.” 

A loud laugh echoed around in his skull. “Good morning, boss. How’re you feeling? Dreamed about how far down your elf’s tattoo goes?” 

Roche couldn’t see Ves, but he could picture the mocking tilt to her lips. He scrubbed at his eyes again, willing his head to stop spinning and his guts to stop churning. “ - did I say something about his tattoo?” he asked hesitantly while he slowly turned to face Ves and her very mocking smile. 

“His tattoo, his voice, his shoulders, his ass.” She ticked off each thing on her fingers. “Shall I go on? I had to listen to you wax poetic about your elf for hours. _Hours_ , Roche. I now worry for you and how much you think about your elf’s cock. Seriously, Roche.” 

He whined pitifully and rolled over to face away from his friend. “Leave me to die in my misery and humiliation.” 

“Yeah, you’ve been spending way too much time with ‘Ior’.” Roche could _hear_ her sneer. “You’ve turned into a dramatic bitch.” 

Roche determinedly ignored her until she signed and put a hand on his shoulder. “Feel better, Roche. It’s not the end of the world, you’ll see.” 

He clenched his jaw shut, making his head hurt worse than before, just so he could force back the urge to reply with a sullen ‘it’s the end of _mine_ ’ which would have just gotten him mocked even further. He adored Ves, she was his dearest friend, but she really knew how to take the piss and he just didn’t have it in him to take it. 

Even a night of heavy drinking and bitching hadn’t been enough to erase the hurt he was feeling. He knew, deep down, that there was no way Iorveth would ever feel remotely similar, but to find out just how against Roche’s feelings he was - it broke something in him. 

Roche buried his head under his pillow and willed himself to go back to sleep. He would deal with the consequences of Iorveth rejecting him later. 

\--------

Iorveth felt marginally better after four days of camping out under the stars and breathing in the smell of the forest, but it only did so much to soothe the hurt still simmering in his chest. The worst part of everything he had overheard was that Roche didn’t even consider them friends. Friends didn’t cause frustration every time they got together. Iorveth enjoyed their meetings, had fun debating the merits of using a shield versus dual-wielding two blades over a lunch of wine and cheese, he even found himself enjoying going over the paperwork that came with their new positions under the crown. 

He had never dreamed that Roche didn’t at least partially enjoy their time. They had a lot of shared history, none of it good, but he was sure they had been able to move past it. Forgive even if they couldn’t (and shouldn’t) forget. 

He never imagined he was wrong. 

Bells began to ring from the tower. Iorveth cursed and hurried his steps so he could change back into council approved garb. It wouldn’t do him any good to be late to the Emperor’s Council meeting and the toady that stood outside the council room would rather die than allow him in if he tried to enter while wearing his old armor.

He felt like a bucket of icy water was dumped on his head when he realized that his usual seat had been left open for him, putting him to the right of Roche so they could coordinate their information without forcing Roche to sit in his blind spot. The atmosphere immediately felt tense although he was sure it was only him who felt that way. 

_Let it never be said that Iorveth of the Aen Seidhe is a coward,_ he took a calming breath and walked over to his seat with his head held high like he didn’t have a care in the world. He gave his report and listened to the other Council members do the same all without giving away the whirlwind going on in his head. Except for how his fingers were digging into the meat of thighs and for how he did everything in his power to _not look_ at Roche. 

“How was your patrol?” Roche asked once they had been dismissed. “You look like you got some sun.” 

“Yes, it was nice,” Iorveth heard himself say even as he walked out of the chamber. He had officially reached the end of his ability to keep his cool. He could feel the tips of his ears turn red with shame for how low he felt after only a moment of Roche’s attention turned solely on him after finding out just how little Roche cared for him. 

“Are you okay?”

Iorveth shook his head minutely. “Fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” 

A rumbling growl started reverberating through his chest. He was _trying_ , dammit. He was trying so hard to give Roche what he wanted and the stubborn human wasn’t letting him. “I’m _fine_ , Roche. I’ve got a lot to catch up on. Have a good day.” 

His sensitive hearing picked up Roche’s whispered reply ‘you always call me Vernon’ though he was sure it wasn’t meant for him. “What did I do?” Roche asked at a regular volume. 

_Apparently, we’re doing this,_ he thought to himself with a huff. “I’m just giving you what you obviously want since I _frustrate_ you so much.” He turned on his heel and hurried away so he could get away. He wasn’t running away, he _wasn’t_ , but he couldn’t do it. He tried and he couldn’t do it, couldn’t bring himself to face what he dearly wanted but would never have. It was too much. 

He fled to his office and nearly ran over Ciaran who was standing in front of his desk as if he had been waiting for him. The scowl on his friend’s face didn’t bode well for the reason for waiting on him. “If you’re here to tell me I’m a fucking idiot, please save it. I am very aware.” 

Ciaran’s face softened into a more neutral expression. “Are you okay?” Ciaran asked and pulled Iorveth into a hug. He shook his head and buried his face in Ciaran’s shoulder, hiding from the world. “Do you want to talk about it? I was worried about you, Iorveth. You left in such a hurry and you looked like you were in so much pain.” 

“I was. I _am_. But I don’t wanna talk about it,” he muttered pathetically with his face still hidden in Ciaran’s shoulder. 

They broke apart when a loud hammering sound came from the other side of the door. Without waiting for a reply from inside, it opened and revealed a furious-looking Vernon Roche. “Beat it, Ciaran,” Roche growled, his infamously short fuse having reached its end. 

“You can’t tell him what to do!” Iorveth found himself growling back, immediately jumping in to defend his friend. 

“If you want an audience I won’t stop you but we are having this conversation _now_.”

Iorveth would deny it until his dying day, but the rumbling command sent a thrill of arousal straight down his spine. He nodded at Ciaran and waved him off. He and Roche had a history, he could take him in a physical fight if it came down to it, and he didn’t want Ciaran to witness his humiliation. 

Once Ciaran left Roche closed the distance between them until they were standing toe to toe. Even though Roche was several inches shorter, he seemed so large in his anger. “No running this time, Ior. What the fuck did you mean back there? What right do you have to tell me how I feel when you obviously find my feelings irrelevant?” 

Iorveth flinched away like he had been struck before he pushed Roche out of his face with a gentle hand on his shoulder. No matter how angry Roche was, no matter how much Iorveth didn’t want to have this conversation yet, he wouldn’t be the one to instigate a physical fight this time. “Why does it matter to you? You find me frustrating -” 

“You’re damn right I do!”

“- so why wouldn’t I just leave you alone? I heard you and Ves talking about how you’re always so frustrated after our meetings. I don’t have the strength to be angry anymore so I’m just doing what I can to make you comfortable. If you don’t want to be around me, if you don’t consider us friends as I assumed, I won’t force my presence on you.”

Roche looked taken aback as if he was expecting more of a fight from his former rival. “How much did you hear?” 

Iorveth didn’t see how that was relevant but he answered all the same. “I heard Ves ask you to get a drink with her and left right after she said your frustration was making her frustrated.” 

The fight seemed to drain out of Roche. “So you _didn’t_ hear the rest? Well, shit.”

He was missing something, he was sure of it. “The rest of what? You had already broken my heart, I wasn’t going to stand around and listen for more.” He slapped a hand over his mouth as if he could stop his confession or take it back. He could only hope Roche hadn’t heard it. 

“I - what? Ior, what?” Roche stuttered as he floundered around for words. “I think you and I are having two different conversations.” He took a deep breath and reached a hand out to wrap around Iorveth’s wrist. “You once reassured me about confessing my preferences, so I’m going to try to do the same thing. 

“Ves was teasing me. She’s always teasing me about you. The frustration she was mentioning? She meant that I was very obviously sexually frustrated because I am so stupidly attracted to you that I can’t bring myself to be with anyone else. And being locked away with you for hours makes me crazy in the best way. And I _know_ I don't have a chance with you, I do. I know you're not attracted to humans and I completely understand. I just want you to know that you're the most beautiful person I have ever met."

Iorveth felt his jaw drop and his mind empty of everything but Roche calling him beautiful. He self-consciously reached up and tugged his bandana lower so that it covered as much of the disfiguring scars as possible. 

"Don't. Don't hide from me. I know you think you lost your beauty when you lost your eye, but you're wrong, and whoever it was who made you believe that is wrong." Roche spoke with so much conviction that Iorveth wasn't at all surprised when he started to tear up. "You’re a survivor, you came back from an injury that would have killed a lesser man, and you came back stronger."

"Roche-"

"Please don’t call me that. You never did before, please don't start now."

"Vernon. You-" Iorveth used the grip Roche still had on his wrist to pull them closer. "I lied. Back then, it was a lie. When I said it was only other elves I found attractive. There's been an exception for that for longer than I could admit to myself."

He sat down on the edge of his desk and pulled Roche in the space between his legs so they were as close as possible. "I’ve been trying to figure out how to start courting you for some time," he confessed quietly. "Unfortunately I have no idea how to go about courting a human."

Roche laughed and rested his forehead against Iorveth's. "Do you mean to tell me we're both been pining after each other and all this was some misunderstanding? That I could have had you before?" At Iorveth’s slow nod, Roche reached out with his free hand and traced the backs of his fingers across the curve of Iorveth’s cheek, his scarred cheek. It was enough for his breath to catch in his throat. 

"Vernon?" Roche hummed in acknowledgment, still running his fingers across Iorveth's face as if trying to memorize every facet and flaw. "Kiss me?"

The words were hardly out of his mouth before Roche complied. He was warm, warmer than Iorveth expected, but in a way that settled something in his chest.

Roche kissed the way he fought, confident, and always changing his tactics like he was trying to find the best way to take Iorveth apart. It was a heady feeling, and something he was sure he was quickly becoming addicted to. When they broke apart, he couldn’t stop the quiet whine nor did he allow them to part for long. "While I don't think this is what the Emperor meant when he said we needed to get along, I'm not done with you yet." He curled his hand against the back of Roche’s neck and closed the slight distance between them. 

"Fuck," Roche murmured against Iorveth's lips. "I want to do this right. You should be wooed and courted and I really want to do that. But fuck Ior, I also want to take you to bed and see how far down your tattoo goes, and if I can make you scream my name." 

White-hot arousal curled deep in Iorveth’s gut and he nodded in agreement. "What are you waiting for? A written invitation?" Iorveth challenged with a smile that was met with an identical one from Roche. 

"I want it embossed with gold and delivered to me on a feather pillow," Roche sassed back without missing a beat. He took a step back and held out a hand to help Iorveth steady himself after his legs gave out on him when he got up off his desk. "Did I make you swoon? If I knew that's all it took to defeat you, I would have had you under me ages ago."

"You wish," Iorveth panted before he regained his footing and smirked down at Roche, reveling in the fact that he was nearly a head taller. He stepped forward and leaned in close. With a smirk and a small nip at Roche’s lower lip, he whispered "race you" before taking off out the door and down the hall towards his room. He heard Roche cursing behind him and couldn't help the gleeful laugh as he put distance between them and crowed in victory when he easily beat his human. 

"To the victor go the spoils," Roche said as he kicked the door closed and crowded closer to Iorveth to back him up until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed. "What is it you want?"

"You," Iorveth answered without a pause, pleased with the grin he got in return before Roche followed him onto the bed, stalking closer like some kind of predator that Iorveth was more than willing to be prey for. 

"As you wish." 

\----

Roche woke up slowly, a comfortable weight on top of him. While he normally slept on his stomach, he would gladly change that if he could wake up to miles of soft skin against his chest. With as much care as he could manage, he freed his hand from Iorveth’s so that he was able to thread his fingers through soft dark hair that was always disappointingly hidden under a bandana to hide his scars. 

Something warm, stronger than affection, curled up in his chest when he recalled the soft gasp Iorveth had made when Roche had removed the bandana and asked him not to hide while they were alone. 

He closed his eyes and continued to pet through Iorveth’s silky hair while he wracked his brain for something to do for Iorveth, something that showed his affection but was more _them_. They had never had a conventional relationship, even as rivals they allowed each other to escape instead of eliminating the direct threat; and now Roche knew he would have to find something to acknowledge their shared history but his willingness to leave it in the past and start something new, just like they had when they began working together under the Emperor. 

Iorveth shifted and pushed his head further into Roche’s fingers. “You’re thinking very loudly,” he muttered into Roche’s chest. 

Roche hummed in agreement. “Apologies. What shall I do to make it up to you?” The warm feeling grew and simmered in his chest as he watched Iorveth sit up and stretch like some kind of large, graceful cat. “I could get used to waking up like this,” he said as he traced the delicate tattoo that snaked down from Iorveth’s neck down to his slim hips. 

“You _are_ quite comfortable and warm. I think I could allow you to get used to waking up with me... _if_ you go get me breakfast,” Iorveth answered with a haughty lilt to his voice that was belied by the content smile. 

“Suppose I could do that. You’ll have to get off me though.” 

“I can get you off, but I’d prefer some breakfast before I do so.” 

Roche groaned and shook his head. “You’re the literal worst.” He untangled himself from the mess of blankets. “It’s a good thing I love you,” he added under his breath, desperate to get the words out, but not sure if he was ready for Iorveth to hear them. 

He put on his clothes from the day before, not having another choice since he knew he’d never be able to squeeze his ass into Iorveth’s trousers, especially after having gotten up close and personal with the owner of said trousers. “I’ll be back,” he called over his shoulder to Iorveth who was curled in the spot on the bed he had recently vacated with an absent look on his face and the tips of his pointed ears a bright red.

It wasn’t until after he had raided the breakfast line for some fruit and strong coffee that he realized if Iorveth was able to hear his conversation with Ves through his heavy office door he had most definitely heard him say ‘I love you’ when they weren’t even five feet apart. ”Fuck.” 

“No thanks, boss,” Ves said from right behind him. He cursed himself for not hearing her come up behind him. “But it looks like someone did. That is a fantastic love bite,” she said while she poked hard at the spot Iorveth had decided to mark up. “Did you decide to finally get over your elf by getting under someone else?”

Roche felt his neck and ears flush. “Not quite,” he muttered and hurried out of the common area with Ves hot on his heels. 

Once they were alone, she pounced. “You absolute dog! Who was it?” Her eyes were shining with a concerning amount of curiosity and glee. She took a moment to take a close look at his face and then seemed to notice they weren’t going the right way to his room or office. “ _No._ What happened to ‘he doesn’t want me’?” 

“Would you believe it was all just a huge misunderstanding and we, uh, worked it out,” he answered as he tried to get around Ves and back to Iorveth until he remembered what he had inadvertently allowed him to hear. He could feel the color drain from his face. “Shit.” 

“What?” 

“Uh, nothing,” he said quickly. There was no way he was going to tell Ves that he had admitted the depths of his feelings after one night together. He had little dignity left and he wasn’t about to lose the rest of it to his second. “You wouldn’t have an idea of how to court an elf, would you? Or court someone at all?” 

Ves barked a laugh. “Boss, my idea of courting would be to find someone who can beat me at knife throwing.” 

His first thought was that she was ridiculous and insane until he realized it may not actually be a terrible idea. He told her as much. “Thanks, Ves. I think I may know what to do.” 

He didn’t hear her comeback as he started walking back to Iorveth’s room with a single-minded focus. Now that he wasn’t floundering for a plan, he wanted to get started on it before he started to doubt himself. 

Roche could admit he was disappointed when he saw that Iorveth was no longer lounging around in bed naked, but it was better for his plans that he was dressed. “Good, you’re up. Put your boots on, we’re going outside.” He shifted the tray carrying their breakfast to one hand and offered the other to Iorveth who took it after doing as Roche requested. 

Iorveth raised his eyebrow at their joined hands as Roche led him down to the open arena outside of the palace that had been turned into an archery range for the few ranged units stationed in Vizima. “Where are you taking me, Vernon?” Iorveth asked as if he hadn’t yet figured out Roche’s plan. 

“We’re going to sit in the sunshine and eat, then I would love to learn to use a longbow from a master.” He could feel the back of his neck heat under the intense look Iorveth shot him. It didn’t look like he was angry, but Roche didn’t want another misunderstanding so he stopped their trek and turned to face Iorveth fully. “Unless you’d rather not. I know it’s not a traditional courting ritual, but nothing about us is traditional. I wanted to do something that would be more like us - create our own traditions. One of the first things I noticed about you was how fucking skilled you were. You’re an artist with that bow, Ior, and I wanted to do something that was more _us_ while also allowing us to use our skills outside of combat.”

Iorveth was still leveling him with the same intense look in his eye without saying a word. 

Roche swallowed heavily and hurried to backtrack. “Look, I know we spent too long fighting each other, and you’ve been fighting longer than I’ve been alive. You’ve spent so long putting your people first, let me put you first. Let me show you that you deserve something soft, that all the fighting we’ve done doesn’t mean that we don’t deserve what everyone else can have.” 

Still silent, Iorveth took the tray with their breakfast from Roche’s hand and set it down several feet away. The elf paused and looked around before he took a running leap. Roche only had a moment to recognize it wasn’t to attack before he was almost knocked back onto his ass by the extra weight quickly added to his upper body. He shifted his feet so they wouldn’t fall to the ground and gripped Iorveth’s thighs as his legs wrapped around Roche’s waist at the same time Iorveth took his face between his hands. “You are - that was - did you mean it?” Iorveth stuttered out. Roche could feel the faint tremor in Iorveth’s fingers that were still curved along his cheeks and jaw. 

“Course I did. You deserve nice things, and I’ll try my damnedest to give them to you -” 

“Not that,” Iorveth interrupted. “Well, not _just_ that. I heard you earlier. I know I wasn’t meant to, but I did. Did you mean it?”

With little distance between them and the morning sunlight shining on them, Roche was momentarily distracted by the way Iorveth’s golden skin seemed to glow. He nodded and licked his suddenly dry lips. “Y-yeah.” 

Iorveth released Roche’s face and wrapped his arms around Roche’s shoulders instead while burying his face against the same spot he had marked the night before. Roche could feel the slightly hysterical laugh against the junction between his neck and shoulder. “Gods, Vernon. I love you too.” 

\--------

Part of Iorveth was worried that once the shine of a new relationship wore off and they settled into a more comfortable pattern, one where they could control themselves and not give the palace tailor more work than usual as they tore their clothes in their enthusiasm to undress each other every time they had a moment alone. He was happy to shut that part of himself up every time the fear started to sit heavy on his shoulders. All he had to do was catch a glimpse of the pendant Roche had commissioned for him - a peony made of gemstones. 

The story Roche had rambled out to him when he gifted him the pendant always made him smile. “I may have cornered Ciaran and asked him to help me. I wanted to do something that would remind you of how I feel and that I think you’re so fucking gorgeous I don’t even know what to do with myself around you. He has a very scary glare, you know. Anyways he told me about flower meanings and…” 

He huffed out a quiet laugh as he remembered how nervous Roche seemed and how far he had gone to find a gift. Even a year later he was still finding himself surprised by how thoughtful his lover could be. 

His office door opened after a brief knock. “I got a message from Geralt,” Roche said after he had pressed a soft kiss to the top of Iorveth’s head in greeting. “He and Dandelion are going to be here for Ciri’s birthday celebration.”

While Emperor Emhyr had yet to abdicate his seat to his daughter, Cirilla was visiting to spend the season in the palace. Iorveth hadn’t interacted much with Geralt’s child surprise/adopted daughter, but from what he knew and heard from Roche, she was as fierce and kind and had gained all of Gwenbleidd’s good traits. “It will be nice to see them. I’ll have to get out my flute to play with the bard. When are they supposed to be here?”

“This says they’re portaling in this evening. Huh, I thought Geralt hated portals.” Roche sat down on the armrest of Iorveth’s chair so he could be close enough to wrap an arm around Iorveth’s shoulders. “Are you almost done? I’d like to have lunch with you before we have friends to entertain.” 

Iorveth hummed and leaned heavily against Roche. “I could eat. There’s nothing here that’s urgent.” 

Sometime between allowing Roche to pull him out of his office, eating outside in the courtyard under what had become their tree, and getting backed into a dark alcove because they couldn’t wait until they got back to either of their rooms to get their hands on each other they had both lost track of time. 

Iorveth blamed his lack of spatial awareness on the intoxicating feeling of being held up against a wall so easily. It wasn’t a good excuse as far as excuses go, but after getting caught by numerous palace staff and Ciaran and Ves (and one memorable time by the Emperor himself) they had run out of excuses for not paying attention to their surroundings. That’s why they froze when a bright and familiar laugh echoed around the hallway. “Shit,” he whispered into Roche’s mouth. “Please tell me that we didn’t just get caught with your hand in my pants by Geralt and Dandelion.” 

“Oh, you did,” Geralt drawled from behind them, sounding amused while Dandelion cackled like a madman. 

“You owe me 50 Florens, Geralt. I _told_ you there was something there. I called that back when we were in Flotsam years ago.” 

Iroveth felt his ears heat up as he and Roche disentangled themselves and adjusted their clothing to look less disheveled and less like they were still both painfully hard regardless of being caught in the act. 

“And here I thought they’d both die before either of them admitted the obvious attraction. I could literally _smell_ the arousal every time you were around each other,” Geralt sounded put out but the hint of a smile betrayed his amusement. “I’m making you two pay my bet. It’s your fault I’m out 50 Florens.” 

Iorveth laughed into his lover’s shoulder and poked Roche in the side. “You heard him, pay the bard, my love.” 

Dandelion gasped dramatically. “Oh! This isn’t just sex. Did you hear that?” Dandelion bounced lightly on his toes with a bright smile. “This is serious. When’s the wedding?”

As they did with everything else, they answered “Ostara” together. Together they would bind their hands and hearts as one on the day with the equal balance of light and dark, to face the rising light side by side. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Run Away With Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27971030) by [Llama1412](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412)




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